Life Is Just a Classroom
by angellwings
Summary: Collection of Brettsey prompts from my recent Tumblr prompt game. All prompts are either dialogue or places. [Brettsey] [Collection]
1. Hospital Room

**A/N:** I started a prompt game on tumblr this weekend and go way more prompts then I thought I would. Two of them turned into one shots. I have 5 more to write and the rest only exit on Tumblr. So I thought I would fix that and post the rest of them in a collection. None of them are connected or consecutive. Some of them will have established relationship Brettsey and some of them will be our current slow burn Brettsey. Hope you'll enjoy them!

Happy reading,

angellwings

* * *

_Prompt: Place - Hospital room_

* * *

She's been told a lot of reasons not to follow up with patients. Usually they have to do with getting attached or letting the potential loss overwhelm you. But not once did anyone mention the potential to get caught up in a hostage situation.

Possibly because it's unlikely for anyone but Sylvie Brett.

She and Foster came by Lakeshore under the guise of stocking up the ambo but really it was to check on a little girl from an accident scene earlier that morning. Who ever had been driving bailed out and left the six year old, named Hannah, sitting alone in shattered glass and crunched metal with the added bonus of a leaking gas tank. The idea of Hannah being alone in the hosptial didn't sit well with Sylvie so she'd convinced Foster to swing by on their way from a run of the mill wellness check.

Luckily, Foster was on her way down to the Ambo with supplies when it happened so she escaped unscathed. It being, the driver finally showing his face. Turns out, the accident interrupted a kidnapping and the driver came back to finish the job. Just her luck. But, thankfully, her partner made it out a split second before. Foster making it out also meant she was outside to report the gunshots when they inevitably echoed through the halls.

Sylvie caught sight of him holding a nurse at gunpoint just in time to shut and lock Hannah's door. Hannah looked terrified and fragile with her arm in a bulky bright pink cast cradled to her chest. She drew the shades closed in the room and, as calmly as possible, picked Hannah up off the bed. She hid them both in the corner of the room, behind the door. She hoped if he broke into the room he'd do a quick look around and move on.

She remembers pressing a finger to her lips to ask Hannah to keep quiet. Tears were streaming down the girl's cheeks but she nodded obediently.

For several minutes, Sylvie heard nothing but stomping steps, gunshots, and screams. But then…a jiggle. No other word to describe the sound. In most cases that sound is harmless, but in this situation it could be life and death. Her eyes flew to the door handle as it barely moved up and down. She felt so tense that she had to remind herself to breathe. She winced when a gunshot rang out and the lock was blown out of the door.

She took a deep breath and positioned herself in front of Hannah. If he wanted the girl, he'd have to go through her. Turned out, that was his plan too. Though, he didn't get that far.

Before he could even lift his gun in her direction, the blunt end of a halligan struck the assailant's back. He fell forward with a grunt and his gun clattered to the ground. Sylvie moved quickly and kicked it away. The gunmen may have been down but that didn't mean he was out.

Swiftly, Sylvie scooped Hannah up and fled from the room. She didn't get a good look at the firefighter who saved them. There wasn't time and Hannah was more important. She reached the hall just as Voight and Ruzek were approaching the nurse's station. They led them into another room and secured it behind them until the attempted kidnapper was locked down. A doctor was waiting and took Hannah from Sylvie's arms to inspect her further. Hannah was fine, aside from her earlier broken arm, but Sylvie was grateful for the break. She'd been running on adrenaline and determination for the last twenty minutes. She could only do that for so long.

Which is what brings her to now, sinking into a stiff chair in the corner of a hospital room while a doctor reminds her he'll need to look her over next.

She resists rolling her eyes and nods. Only after that does she register a fourth person in the room.

Standing over her shoulder, watching the door with hyper-vigilance, is Matthew Casey. No turn out coat, no helmet, but otherwise decked out for a call with his halligan in hand.

"Casey?" She asks with a bleary expression. Had he been there the whole time?

"Brett," he replies with a sigh of relief. "You okay?"

She takes a moment to take stock of herself. She's in a little bit of shock. Her heart is racing. Her mouth tastes bitter from the rush of adrenaline. But otherwise, she's intact. Her one track purpose of protecting Hannah is letting up and she's able to multitask again. For example, she can take in Matt's apprehensive face, register that the doctor has given Hannah the all clear, and remember the hand that held the halligan that saved her life just a few minutes ago in one singular swirl of emotions and memories.

"What are you doing here?" She asks instead of answering his question.

"We heard Foster over the radio and we were just a block away so–"

A lopsided grin slips through as her panic and fear start to fade. "So, you came running?"

"As fast as the sirens would let us," he answers with a small grin of his own while kneeling to be eye level with her seated position.

"The halligan that hit the guy, was that you?" She asks as she nods down at the tool he still holds in a white knuckle grip.

"If I say yes, are you going to lecture me? Because PD told us to wait but there was no way in hell that I was gonna stand around out there with you–"

She cuts him off by placing a hand over his mouth. "Just a yes or no will do."

She quirks an expectant brow at him as she removes her hand, but still blushes at the boldness of her own gesture. Did she really just feel Matt Casey's lips against her palm? Is it strange that she still feels his lips against her palm even if both of her hands are now tightly folded in her lap?

"Yes," he replies with a slight grimace. "We got here and Foster said you were inside. PD was still a few minutes out and waiting felt like too big of a–"

She cuts him off again, but this time she launches her entire body at him in a tight hug. Her arms go around his neck as she slides out of the seat. He tries to counter her weight in his crouched position, but she caught him off guard so they end up falling back against the wall with his arms around her waist.

"Thank you," she murmurs against his neck. "Thank you for coming after me."

She realizes she shouldn't be practically in his lap in the presence of a doctor and a young patient but she can't bring herself to care. She was scared. She remained calm and assured on the outside for Hannah's sake but inside…she was terrified. He saved her. He defied orders for back up and reached her just in time. She needs a hug and he deserves one. Professionalism be damned.

She feels him release another relieved breath. It's warm and comforting and fans out over the back of her neck like the perfect scarf on a frigid day. "It was you, Brett. Of course I came after you. What choice did I have?"

Oh, he had plenty of choices, but he ignored all of them and chose her. Does he know how much that means to her? No, probably not. But damn it just when she thinks she can't fall any harder, he does something like this and proves her wrong. There's still plenty of room to fall and her heart shows no signs of stopping. She really hopes he's falling with her because if not she's screwed.

But really, echoing his sentiment, what choice does she have?


	2. The Kitchen

_Prompt: Place - the kitchen_

* * *

"You know you really didn't have to do this for me, Sylvie. Both of you have done so much already."

"Oh, please, Mr. Larson, it's my pleasure. You've been in that hotel so long, and you deserve a nice dinner to celebrate you and Dusty coming back home," Sylvie assures the elderly man as she walks him to the edge of the open kitchen. "Now, go take it easy. I've got this totally under control."

Matt watches in amusement as Mr. Larson dutifully heads toward the living room and takes a seat in his recliner. The adoring smile Larson tosses at Sylvie as he leaves is no surprise to anyone. The old man dotes on Sylvie as if she were his own daughter. Casey can understand why. There's no one more giving or caring than Sylvie Brett. She deserves to be universally admired for her ability to bring out the best in almost anyone.

"The renovations look great, Casey," Brett says idly as she checks whatever dish she's preparing in the oven. He was too busy watching her try to charm Larson out of the room to pay attention to what she brought over. "The upstairs looks good as new."

He tips his beer bottle at her and then shrugs dismissively. "Surprisingly, the fire didn't do too much damage. Just had to make sure the floors and the walls would hold up. I really didn't do a lot."

She scoffs with a dry grin. "Right. Sure you didn't. You know, you brush off every compliment I give you? You can take credit for things when you do something exceptional. You know that, right?"

He chuckles and shrugs again. "All the credit I need is in the paycheck."

Her eyes narrow on him as she closes the oven and then she steps into his space, speaking up quietly. "But you don't always charge what you should. I know what the insurance gave him and I have a rough idea of how much the work you did should cost. You definitely cut him a break."

He shakes his head, clearing his throat before knowingly fibbing. "The price I gave him was competitive. If I gave him a deal it wasn't a huge one."

Liar. He's a liar. No way he could charge Mr. Larson what he should have given the fact that the insurance company screwed him over and gave him as little as they possibly could for the repairs. Matt wasn't one to do shotty work just to fit a budget, especially not in the aftermath of fire damage. If that meant a little of the cost came out of his own pocket – well…so be it.

Sylvie smiles warmly at him, causing something in his stomach to flip once or twice, and then squeezes his arm. "You're too good, Matt Casey. Please never change."

He releases a breath he didn't know he was holding as soon as her hand leaves his arm. What was that about? He's not a teenage idiot with a crush so why does he act like one every time Sylvie innocently touches him?

"You should go sit, too," Sylvie encourages. "I'm just going to make a salad while the pies bake. I've got this."

"You sure?" He asks. "I could help you with the salad if you…"

"No, it's fine. I'm sure. Go sit. I bet Mr. Larson and Dusty would love the company," she insists as her hands find his shoulders to gently guide him, backwards, out of the kitchen.

"Okay, alright," he replies with a soft laugh as he holds one hand up in surrender. "I'm going."

He's still chuckling to himself when he takes a seat on the end of the couch closest to Mr. Larson's recliner.

"Banished you too, huh?" Mr. Larson asks with a knowing grin.

"It appears so," Matt replies, placing his half empty beer on a coaster on the side table.

"Gail used to do the same thing to me," Larson admits with a fond grin. "She used to tell me I was a distraction. I'm sure it's the same for a young couple like yourselves."

Matt nearly distractedly nods in agreement until Larson's words actually hit him. He pauses and then shakes his head. "Oh no, we're not–Brett and I aren't–that is to say, Sylvie and I are friends."

Mr. Larson laughs and looks completely unconvinced. "For now. But I see how the two of you look at each other. Trust me, I'm old. I have insight and wisdom you don't yet."

Dusty hops up on to the couch and then sits on Matt's lap. Maybe he's losing his mind but the look on Dusty's face seems to indicate agreement with his owner.

"And if you ask me, I don't think you could find a better match than her, Mattew," Mr. Larson tells him. "Or her a better partner than you. Good people deserve other good people, that's what Gail used to say. She was right, as she so often was."

Can he help it if his eyes drift to Brett as she's chopping vegetables for the salad? It's Larson's fault. He kept talking about her.

"You should tell her," Mr. Larson advises. "Tell her how you feel, and don't tell me you don't feel anything. I may have readers stashed away in every corner of the house but I'm not blind."

"I–I don't know," Matt admits quietly. "We've known each other for a long time now and she was best friends with my ex-wife. Even dated my ex's brother–"

"Doesn't matter," Mr. Larson interrupts. "You've only got a limited amount of time on this earth so when you find something truly good you need to grab ahold of it." He meets Matt's eyes before he continues and Matt can see the unshed tears lingering in them despite the kind smile on his face. He knows the other man is thinking of his late wife and Casey's heart goes out to him. "You never know how long you'll have to enjoy it."

That last sentence stabs right through Casey's heart. The man in front of him is proof enough but he also forces Matt to think back on the friends and family he's already lost and all the things he should have said to them but didn't. The ways he took them for granted. The ways he's taking Brett for granted right now. He keeps acting as though she'll always be there even though he knows that's not true, especially after she left with the Chaplain last year. The idea that she could leave or he could lose her isn't an unfamiliar one.

Yet, here he is trying to deny something that he knows he feels. There's a reason he acts like a teenage idiot with a crush anytime Brett touches him. Maybe he's not a teenager, but he's definitely an idiot with a crush. She impresses him every day – leaves him in awe more often than not – with her big heart, brave spirit, and quick thinking. With what they see every day, it would be easy to become jaded and cynical but she hasn't. He hopes she never will.

Suddenly, he feels the need to tell her this. Maybe not the part about the crush but at least that he–

"Excuse me," Casey says to Mr. Larson as he hands the old man his cat and stands up.

"Take your time," Mr. Larson replies with a chuckle as he and Dusty share a look. Matt could be losing it, but once again he gets the feeling the cat is just as amused by all this as his owner.

Matt clears his throat to alert Sylvie to his presence as he enters the kitchen.

"Twenty more minutes," she tells him. "Then we can eat and the salad's done so I guess I am too."

"Great," he says with a nod. "So that means we have time to talk?"

"Oh," Sylvie says in surprise. "Sure, yes. Of course."

"You, um, called me too good earlier," he begins.

"Yes, I did," Sylvie says with a tiny questioning smile.

"Well, I didn't respond and I should have. I should have told you that you're 'too good' too and that I'm very glad that hasn't changed since you came to Chicago because it easily could have. Or about how I think you make everyone you know, and even people you don't, a better person because of that goodness. You give a lot of yourself to other people and I just want to make sure you know someone sees that and appreciates it." The longer he talked, the faster he talked. By the end he sounded as though he were in a rambling rush. Last time he'd been this open with her, he'd had time to consider his words carefully, but this time he's winging it and it shows.

Nervous rambling or not, Sylvie blushes and smiles bashfully at him.

"I, um–" She pauses and presses a hand to her lips, covering up a bright toothy smile and then tries to discreetly swipe that hand under her watery eyes. "Thank you, Matt. That means more than you know. But really," she demures. "I'm just…treating people how I want to be treated. That's all."

He gives her a fond smile but an exasperated stare. "What was that you said to me earlier? You can take credit for things when you do something exceptional?"

"Turns out I'm not so good at that either," she tells him with a watery chuckle.

He laughs and then surprises himself by take her hand in his as they stand across from each other in the kitchen. "Maybe we should make a deal then? You accept the compliments people give me and I'll accept the compliments people give you. Sound good?"

She squeezes his hand and laughs with him. "Deal. I think I can handle that."

It wasn't the feelings he knew Larson wanted him to confess, but it was something. He didn't want to take Sylvie for granted but he didn't want to rush either. They can move forward one step at a time. Eventually, he'll be brave enough to tell her what he wants, but for now standing in the kitchen holding her hand is all the progress he needs.


	3. Was that Supposed to Hurt?

A/N: this one features established relationship Brettsey.

* * *

Prompt: dialogue - "Was that supposed to hurt?"

* * *

She honestly isn't sure how her current circumstances came to be. She feels like she does when she drives home after a grueling shift and doesn't remember any of the actual driving. She knows she's here in Fowlerton with Matt and she knows Harrison is staring them down from the opposite end of the aisle. But she's not sure how they all happen to be here at the same time.

"Sylvie!" Harrison calls cheerfully.

"Fuck," she mutters under her breath. Matt hears her though. She can tell by the way his eyebrows lift in surprise. She then pastes on the most artificial smile she's ever worn. "Harrison. Hi! How are you?"

"I'm good," he answers. "Just swinging by the store on my way home. Wife called with a pregnancy craving. What can you do?"

"Oh, right! Congratulations. Mom told me you and Lauren are expecting. That's great," she says as Harrison takes several steps closer.

There's no reason for her to be afraid of him anymore. She dumped his ass and hasn't seen him in years, but still, for some inexplicable reason, she takes a few steps toward Matt. He reciprocates until they're standing shoulder to shoulder with his hand on the small of her back. His silent support fills her with relief. It amazes and frightens her that she can gain so much strength from one simple gesture.

"Harrison, this is Matt—"

"Yeah, your boyfriend. Your mom told me," Harrison announces, abruptly cutting her off and reaching out to shake Matt's hand. "Good to meet you."

"Yeah, you too," Matt replies. Though, Sylvie could tell he didn't mean it.

"I'm surprised to see you home, Syl. Last time I talked to Hope I got the impression you're a city slicker now. Too important for small town life," Harrison says with a sardonic chuckle. The emphasis he put on important was sarcastic at best, passive aggressive at worst.

"I don't know about important," she says dismissively. "But, you know, my job and my friends and my life are in Chicago so, yeah, I end up staying away a lot."

Matt's eyes are narrowed on Harrison but he hasn't moved an inch.

"Must be a lot easier on you now that you've got somebody to help you out, huh?" Harrison quips as he gestures to Matt. "He get you to move out of that hell hole you lived in when I visited?"

Out of the corner of her eye she sees Matt's jaw twitch and bites back a wince. She should be worried about the way Harrison is talking to her but she's more worried about Matt losing it on her asshole ex-fiance before they've picked up the supplies her parents need.

Sylvie forces a laugh that convinces no one. "No. I moved out of there years ago."

"And she's never needed anybody's help to make it in Chicago. She's been just fine on her own," Matt adds through a tense jaw.

Sylvie puts a hand on his arm to quiet him. Rising to meet his jabs defensively is what Harrison wants them to do.

"You know," Harrison says as he ignores Matt and smirks darkly at Sylvie. "I bought that house you loved anyway. Lauren and I live in it now. It's just as beautiful as you said it could be. Took us a few years to get the whole thing renovated, but once we did…your ideas worked perfectly."

He would bring that up now. Her childhood dreams of bay windows, picket fences, and flower boxes are grenades he's been lobbing at her as long as she's known him. No surprise he would try to rub her face in the fact that he has that and she doesn't. She starts to think of how she wants to respond but apparently he's not done yet. He keeps right on talking like the jackass he is.

"I don't know why you didn't become a decorator instead of a paramedic. You have good instincts on design from all that crafty stuff you like. Plus, you were never good in stressful situations in high school and you're so tenderhearted. It can't be good for you," he says as he pretends to be concerned. "Everyone in town thinks so."

The implication that the "everyone" he's talking about includes her parents hangs in the air between them. Hope made similar comments when she came back with Kyle. She's used to it. And no one will convince her that her parents aren't supportive of her career choice. She knows better than that.

Harrison is trying to hurt her. He's using all the tools at his disposal. All the old tricks that used to work. Thing is that now…

They just don't.

She loops an arm through Matt's, which is hard to do considering how tightly coiled he is, and smiles prettily at her ex-fiance.

"Was that supposed to hurt?" She asks. "Because honestly, Harrison, I stopped giving a damn about your opinion years ago."

She feels the power of Matt's proud grin before she sees it, and quickly reciprocates.

"And you really don't have to worry about her tender heart," Matt advises. She can practically hear the eyeroll in his tone. "She puts it to good use every day. She's one of the best paramedics in the city. In any city, truthfully."

"We'd better get back to my parents. Their birthday barbecues wait for no one. Not even me," Sylvie declares as she waves dismissively at Harrison and turns Matt (and their shopping cart) away from him.

She tries not to smirk victoriously at his slack jaw and shocked expression.

"I hate that guy. Possibly more than I hate Gorsch," Matt grumbles while they head toward the registers.

Sylvie laughs loudly and then presses a quick kiss to Matt's lips. "Hate Gorsch more. Harrison isn't worth the effort."


	4. You're Never Going to Let That Go

Prompt: dialogue - "You're never going to let that go, are you?"

* * *

"Hey, you," Brett says as she marches through the bunk room and points at Matt Casey through his open door. "Bandage check."

He scoffs through a chuckle and shakes his head. "I told you I would change it."

"I've heard that one before," she tells him with a playful glare.

"That was one time! You're never going to let that go, are you?" He asks as he turns in his chair to face her.

"What do you think?" She asks as she breezes through the door to his quarters to sit down on the cot. She has a small first aid kit in one hand and a pair of disposable gloves in the other. She puts on the gloves and then gives him a stern impatient stare. "Come on, let's go. I know you're busy but you're never too busy to properly care for a wound, Captain."

She gave his title pointed emphasis and he knows exactly what that means. "You're a leader. Set an example." She doesn't say it but he hears it all the same.

"I would have gotten to it, you know," he grumbles as he unbuttons the collar of his polo and tugs it down around the ember burn.

"Maybe, but I didn't want to risk it," she tells him honestly as she pulls out the medical tape and gauze.

She stands from the bed to hover over his seated position. She must have a better vantage point on his burn from there but it leaves her standing very close. Even closer when she bends down. Her cheek brushes his and he hears her breath catch at the exact same time something pitches forward in his stomach. Like the swoop of a roller coaster drop.

"Um…do you need me to stand up or—"

"No," she instructs, squeezing his shoulder. "Stay right there."

"Okay," he replies, being careful took anywhere but at her. If he looked at her right now their faces would be mere centimeters away from each other. Just one slight lean and he could—

"There. All done," she declares with another squeeze to his shoulder.

She straightens and gathers up the kit. He moves to stand, but doesn't anticipate her turn to go at the same time. She nearly mows him down. They both would have gone crashing down on the hard floor if he hadn't reached out to steady her by the waist. Her hands in turn fist around his unbuttoned collar, holding him tightly against her. When they've steadied, he looks down at her face and grins.

Her eyes are closed tightly and her mouth has formed a wincing expression. "Did we fall yet?" She asks fearfully.

He chuckles and shakes his head. "No, I got you."

She opens one eye first and then the other with a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

She arches back to get a good look at him – and his fresh bandage he notices with begrudging amusement.

"Your handiwork is fine," he assures her. "Still firmly in place."

"Good," she replies.

Neither of them step out of the hold or move their arms. There's no awkwardness or embarrassment. Honestly, standing here with his arms around Sylvie Bretty feels…both comfortable and comforting. He likes it. Brett's eyes indicate she's not eager to let go either and she hasn't shoved him away yet which is also a good sign.

It's not until her eyes fall on the open door that he sees any sort of underlying apprehension.

She clears her throat and releases his collar, trying her best to smooth out the wrinkles. "I–I should get back to the ambo. Foster and I need to go on a supply run and stop for gas in 61 so…um, make sure you change that bandage again when you get home."

"I will," he says as he reluctantly releases her waist and takes a step back toward his desk.

"You will?" She asks skeptically.

"Yes, I will," he promises.

She points a scolding finger at him. "You really will?"

"Do you want me to text you a photo as proof?" He asks with over exaggerated exasperation.

"Yes, actually! That's a great idea," Sylvie says with a light laugh and a pat of his arm. "I look forward to hearing from you."

Matt grins and shakes his head as she walks away from him. Maybe letting her change his bandage isn't such a bad idea. Being in close quarters with Sylvie Brett gets more and more enjoyable every day. Next time, maybe he'll forget on purpose.


	5. I Can't Keep Kissing Strangers

_Prompt: dialogue - "I can't keep kissing strangers and pretending that they're you."_

* * *

A slow day at Firehouse 51 was rare and when it happened you didn't talk about it. The minute you state any observation about said slowness, the peace is over. So they set about finding things to do. There was cleaning, washing the trucks and ambo, and laundry. Matt even noticed Sylvie alphabetizing the magazines in the common area. But eventually they ran out of busy work.

Some people decided to use the time to catch up on sleep. Herrmann and Severide used the time for paperwork, but Casey wasn't behind on his paperwork so that wouldn't work for him.

He heads toward the common room to try and find something to keep him busy. Under no circumstances could he say he's bored or appear to be bored because that is exactly when this spell of calm would end. Chicago does not need another city wide gas emergency or flesh eating bacteria scare or whatever the hell else insane thing they could come up against.

He finds Brett pouring over a laptop with a furrowed brow. He fixes himself a cup of coffee before joining her at the round table.

"Hey," Matt greets as he angles himself toward her.

"Hey," she replies distractedly.

"You okay?" He asks in concern.

She rolls her eyes but nods. "Foster created an online dating profile for me without asking so now I'm trying to eradicate its existence before I end up with random guys messaging me dick pics."

He winces and shakes his head at her. "Do guys on those services actually do that?"

"Yes," she replies with a huff. She doesn't elaborate and he's glad for that.

"Foster really wants you to get back out there, huh?" Matt asks as concern stirs in the back corner of his mind.

"She thinks it's been too long," Brett answers with a shrug. "She might be right. I mean you've been out there a lot lately. No reason I shouldn't be too."

He tenses and tries to keep his eyes from widening. She noticed that? He hadn't spent much time talking about it but he supposes with Stella living with them now it's not a stretch to think Kidd told her. The truth is, he's not exactly proud of it. He's spinning out and he knows it. Not that he can say any of that to Brett. She's the reason he's spinning out in the first place. Trying to avoid having feelings for someone is hard work. It had been a while since he'd had serious feelings for anyone and he isn't sure if risking his friendship with Brett is the right move. But he's not sure it's the wrong move either. And then he wondered if he maybe he was just lonely and his brain was making him feel things that weren't really there.

He thought if he could redirect what he feels for Brett and focus it on someone else then he could prove to himself that it was loneliness and not real feelings. So far, that hadn't worked. He'd been on a handful of dates at this point and all of them ended the same way.

No sparks. No tension. No lingering looks that make him question everything he thinks he knows. Just bland and boring perfectly fine dinners with women who weren't Sylvie Brett.

"You've been out there," he supplies weakly. "I mean, there was that Ryan guy."

The Ryan guy that annoyed him despite seeming perfectly nice.

"That was one date…over lunch. And honestly I wasn't even sure it was a date until he tried to kiss me so I really don't think that's worth claiming," she admits with a scoff. "I don't know I just…I don't wait to date a guy just because he's nice and polite. I want…I want more than that. I want something real. Something I don't have to force or chase or contort myself to reach. Is that too much to ask?"

"No," he agrees. "You deserve that, Brett. You deserve to have all the things you want."

She lets out a hopeless sigh and then looks away from her laptop to meet his eyes. They share a look that carries on for several moments and he knows it has meaning. He recognizes the emotions behind Sylvie's stare. At that moment he knows, without a doubt, that she's been struggling with the same issue as him. She's feeling something for him and she doesn't know what to do with it.

If she's feeling it too then why are either of them fighting it? It's a big risk, sure, but he was only unwilling to take it before because he was afraid it was one-sided. Now he knows that it isn't, a big wave of bravery crashes over him. Sylvie wants something that feels natural and easy. That's the two of them. The amount of times they've talked or made sure to show up for each other assure him of that. Now, to make sure she sees it too.

"You and I can't keep doing this," he insists.

"Doing what?" She asks warily.

"Dating the wrong people. Questioning everything we feel. Talking ourselves out of the very things we know we want."

Sylvie closes the laptop, fiddles with her watchband (a habit he knows she does when she's nervous) and then gives him a tiny hopeful smile that nearly stops his heart.

"We?" She questions.

"We," he confirms with a thick swallow. "Sylvie, you have the wrong idea about these dates I've been going on."

Her eyes narrow but she doesn't ask for elaboration. He explains himself anyway.

"When I said you and I can't keep doing this, what I really meant was…" Now or never, Casey. There's no way you're chickening out when you face roaring fires and gas explosions on a bi-weekly basis. "I can't keep kissing strangers and pretending that they're you."

A soft gasp brings his eyes to hers and he finds delighted disbelief reflected back at him.

"I—I don't understand. So the dates that you went on…"

"I kept trying to distract myself from you," he replies when her question fades expectantly. "It didn't work."

"Well," she says quietly while glancing around the common room for prying ears. "I have a very simple solution for you." She reaches out a hand and wraps it around his before tugging him closer, beaming at him the entire time. "Stop pretending to kiss me and just do it already."

"Here? Now?" He asks with pleasant surprise.

"There's no one else around. Besides, didn't you just say that we should stop talking ourselves out of the things we want?" She challenges with a triumphant grin.

That grin lures him closer until his lips are a breath away from hers. He spent all this time trying to convince himself Brett wouldn't want him or that losing their friendship wasn't worth the risk, but he was wrong on both counts. Based on the enticing smile and impatient look in her eyes she does want him and finding out where that might lead then is absolutely worth the risk.

He closes the distance and finally covers her lips with his. Her lips feel perfect against his. Soft and giving like Sylvie herself. Until she sucks his bottom lip in between hers and then some of that assertiveness he's always admired shows itself. The kiss gets away from them and deepens as lips part and tongues explore.

Holy shit, she's good at this. He needs more. More of her insistent mouth. More of her soft skin than what he feels under his palm that cups her jaw. More of her. His free hand finds her waist and starts to work it's way under her shirt — only for the bells to sound and announce a call for Ambo 61. He lets out a frustrated curse which causes Sylvie to laugh softly as she pulls away from him.

"Don't worry," she says reassuringly, carding a soothing touch through his hair. "We're definitely finishing this discussion when I get back."

He smirks at her back as she leaves. He should have done that a long time ago. No more pretending to kiss Sylvie Brett. No more kissing anyone other than her, for that matter. He should have known the reality would be far better than the fantasy. Sylvie Brett has always impressed him before. There's no reason for that to change now.


	6. It Was You The Whole Time

_Prompt: dialogue - "It was you the whole time."_

* * *

Life is strange. It's strange because you can't see beyond your current moment in time. That limitation means sometimes things happen that seem like the end of the world. You wonder how you'll get through it. You think you won't. But then…

You do.

And when you come out on the other side of it, you end up with something more rewarding than what you lost. Sometimes, it turns out the person you assumed you're meant to be with is wrong. Being meant to love someone doesn't mean you're meant to love them forever. It's nuanced but accurate as hell. Sometimes, the person you are meant to love forever ends up sitting right beside you for years and years and you never know it. You never know it, you think, because you're not supposed to know. Both of you had a lot to learn and a lot of growing to do before you would be ready.

The hands of fate can be cruel but you like to believe there's a logic in the madness. A path you're destined to take. You'd never survive your job if you didn't believe that. Faith in some unknown predestined path is all that gets you through. You can't see it until your path starts curving. Until the things you thought you knew or the plans you felt were certain all fall apart. Suddenly, your path meets up with someone else's.

Someone who's been on a parallel journey but never the same journey. You've seen her nearly every day for four years, literally under your nose, and never once had the thoughts you're having now. Yet somehow, it doesn't feel wrong. Honestly, it feels like the pieces are all starting to come together – like the shit you went through has been leading you somewhere all along. With other relationships, you grew away from each other, but with this one…you're coming together. You're growing into each other instead of out. That's never happened with anyone else.

Fate and love and destiny were out there the whole time. You just weren't ready for what they had in mind. Looking back, certain scars had to form and then heal to make sure you were prepared to give and receive the way she deserves.

All of this means only one thing – one thing that you're not sure she'll believe no matter how many times you say it. At least not right now. Maybe eventually she will. Maybe she will when years have gone by and the bones of what you've built together are still standing strong. But that's not this day. This day is the beginning. You're still laying the foundation. But you know even if she doesn't. This is different. This is unique. This has a strength like nothing you've ever felt before.

No, you can't see the future. You can't see beyond this current moment in time and, true, your plans have fallen apart before. But much like your faith in a guiding hand, you can't see how this ends badly. Too much happened to put the two of you in the right headspace at the right time. There's no damn way that was all coincidental. It has to mean forever.

It.

Has.

To.

So, you'll tell her again. And again. And again. Because years from now she'll finally believe you. Hindsight will show her what you already know.

You slide the gold band over the tip of her slender finger, past her knuckles, until it stops at the base of left ring finger and then lean toward her ear before the minister can continue with the ceremony. The need to remind her overpowers all the rehearsals and discussions. You're both used to improvisation. It comes with the job. Taking a moment to reassure her won't derail anything. Honestly, you have a sneaking suspicion it might soothe the anxiety hidden in her deep blue gaze.

Your lips brush her ear and you feel her shiver as you speak, your warm breath fanning out over her skin and pulling goosebumps to the surface. You wonder if she can feel your smile against the shell of her ear. It's a distracting thought even if it makes your smile widen so you push it aside.

You bring back the thoughts of the journey the two of you took to get here. The heartbreaks and the near death experiences. The people you lost, the people you gained. The sense of kismet that won't leave you alone anytime you look at her. The altar you thought you'd never make it to again. The life you thought you'd missed out on. The time you thought you'd wasted. You were wrong on all counts. You didn't miss or waste anything. You were just waiting – for her.

Finally, the words break through the emotions. Your whisper is hoarse and comes out as more of a rasp but you know she'll hear you. You know she'll understand. Even if she doesn't completely believe it…yet.

"It was always you, Sylvie Brett. It was you the whole time."


	7. A Barbecue

**A/N:** set during 803 "Badlands" just because.

* * *

_Prompt: place - A barbecue_

* * *

The best reason to attend a Firehouse 51 barbecue will always be to people watch. In all the years Stella Kidd has been a part of this family, the barbecues reveal the most about the ever shifting dynamics within her home away from home. This year's barbecue is particularly interesting and she's ended up with a front row seat to the Brett and Casey show.

Kelly sits down next to her and shifts a glance from her to the couple sitting across from them. Okay, they're not a couple. Yet. But it will happen. It's just a matter of when they decide to get their asses in gear.

Brett's been back for a couple of weeks now and Stella would have to be blind not to see the way Casey has been keeping his distance. She knows they were in a weird almost-but-not-quite into each other place when Kyle came back out of nowhere but really this gaping space between them is ridiculous.

Also, she feels like she's one of the only people privy to both sides of this will-they-won't-they ridiculousness. She's watched Casey show small signs of jealousy. She still remembers the biggest red flag of all. His reaction to the Chaplain showing up at the firehouse. He'd very subtly tried to send Kyle away before Brett got back to the station. It's possible Casey didn't realize what he was doing at the time, but she did. And then just last night, he'd asked her if she knew the guy Brett shared a drink with at Molly's. He tried to play it off as casually curious. He didn't fool her.

So, naturally, she'd fibbed and told him Ryan was more than just a social worker helping Sylvie out with exposing an abusive juvenile detention center. Casey needed to remember that Sylvie Brett was the best of the best and she wouldn't be single forever. (Then again, maybe she would. The woman seemed determined not to date.)

Today, she plans to watch them try and fail to maintain that space.

And maybe meddle.

But only if the situation calls for it.

"So," Stella asks, breaking the silence at their picnic table. "Any updates from Ryan?"

Sylvie brightens while Casey's expression turns cloudy. Stella bites back a smirk.

"Nothing yet, but the minute he has anything he said he'll call me. He's hoping to get me incident reports to review. Anything that might be useful should we meet with the Warden," Sylvie informs them, anxious hope brimming from her expression.

Stella shakes her head and widens her eyes to exaggerate her amazement. "Man, how lucky was it to run into Ryan at the courthouse the other day?"

Severide gives her a knowing grin and shakes his head.

"Foster and I had somebody on our side that day, for sure," Brett agrees. "It had to be more than just right place, right time."

Casey clears his throat while peeling a bit of the label off of his beer bottle, using that same casual tone from last night. "You know, if you need it, I may have some contacts from my Alderman days that could help too."

Stella rests her chin her hand and props her elbow on the table to cover her knowing grin. Subtle, very subtle, Captain Casey.

"Oh! Thank you, Casey," Brett says, smiling brightly at him. "That would be great. I'll let you know for sure. I just can't stand the thought of someone torturing these kids who already have it pretty rough, you know?"

They all nod their agreement. No one can blame her for working overtime on this. If someone is hurting those kids, they need to be stopped.

"I need another drink," Sylvie declares, starting to stand.

Casey stops her by standing before she can and picks up his own empty bottle. "Me too. What are you having? I can get it while I'm up."

"A hard cider, if there's any left," she requests with a sweet smile. "Thank you."

"Sure, of course," he replies, clearing his throat awkwardly as he leaves.

"Yeah, you know, I think I need a second helping," Stella announces while reaching out for Severide's arm and nodding toward his empty plate. "Looks like you do too. Come with me, Kelly."

She yanks him up from his seat and toward the food table, linking her arm through his as they walk.

"Did you see that?" She asks him in a hushed tone.

"See what?" He asks with a laugh. "Casey being a good guy?"

She groans and buries her head in his shoulder. "Kelly, I love you, but you have the emotional depth of a teaspoon. He's jealous!"

"Of who? Some social worker Brett just met?" Severide asks with a barely contained smirk.

"Yes!" She exclaims in frustration. People stop and stare at her outburst so she lowers her voice as she continues. "Casey wants to be the one helping her with this instead of this new Ryan guy."

Kelly's brow furrows in confusion. "You're suggesting Casey has a thing for Brett?"

"He's your roommate. How do you not know this before me?" Stella asks him with a shake of her head.

"I know this may come as a shock to you, but I don't go around asking him who he has a crush on. We're not fourteen," Kelly quips with a sharp grin.

She rolls her eyes. "You don't have to ask him, Kelly. Just pay attention."

Severide looks thoughtful for a moment and then lifts one shoulder as if he's resigning himself to her theory. "He was really weird after the Chaplain proposed. He did not look happy about it."

"See! I'm telling you. Brett and Casey are happening right under our noses and we should do something about it."

"Like what? Lock them in a closet until they make out? Again, we're not fourteen."

She laughs and smacks his arm. "God, you're a jerk."

"Leave them alone, Stella. If it happens then it happens. Let them figure it out," he requests. "Us rushing them will not help."

He's right. Deep down she knows he's right. But the part of her that wants to see her friends as happy as she is, can't help but try and persuade Severide one more time.

"But they'd be so cute together and you have to admit they're the best of all of us. If anyone deserves to be happy, it's them."

"Hey, I want them both to be happy too, but if we force it then it may not go the way you want. Are you willing to risk that? Because I'm not. Also, I don't think it's any of our business."

She pouts and rolls her eyes but eventually nods her agreement. "Fine," she whines. "I get your point. I don't like it, but I get it. For the record, though, I called it. I want the right to say I told you so when one of them actually makes a move."

"Granted," Kelly agrees leaning toward her to place a quick kiss to her temple. "Now, can we get back to the most important part of all this? Food and beer?"


	8. Airport

**A/N:** More established Brettsey where they finally go on that trip they talked about in S7 ;)

* * *

_Prompt: place - Airport_

* * *

"So, we just chill here? On standby for a flight to anywhere?" Sylvie asks in disbelief. She knows the answer to both questions is yes, but she's too excited to shut up.

"Yes, and yes," Matt replies with a fond grin pointed in her direction.

"We're really doing this? This is actually happening. We could be going anywhere in the world. Do you know how hard it is to pack for a destination like anywhere in the world?"

She's rambling. She can't stop herself. Matt reaches over and takes her hand while she nervously adjusts her watch band, lacing their fingers together. It effectively stops her from fidgeting.

"Nervous?" He asks as his gaze drops to the black leather watchband on her wrist.

"I had to get a passport for this," she tells him with a slow anxious inhale. "I didn't even have one. I've rarely been out of our tristate area and even then just to places like New York or Disney World. How did I reach my thirties without traveling internationally?" She shakes her head at herself as she continues. When did she let herself become so boring? "I went to college for four years and somehow never went to Mexico for spring break. God, I haven't even been to Canada and it's just a few miles away! How lame am I?"

He chuckles and brings the back of her hand to his lips. "You're not lame. Life happens, Sylvie. We don't always get to do the things we really want to do. The important thing is, you're doing it now, right?"

"Right," she agrees. And now that she's thinking about it… "You know, if I'd gone to Mexico in college I'd have gone with Hope or, worse, Harrison. That would have been a miserable trip."

Matt scoffs and nods his agreement. "If you'd gone with Hope you probably would have ended up arrested."

Despite her tense relationship with Hope, Sylvie laughs. "That's painfully accurate."

She squeezes Matt's hand and then angles herself in the uncomfortable airport chairs so she can throw her legs over his thighs. She could be wrong but it feels like they're going to be here for a while.

"At least with me, you'll know for sure I'll have your back," he says with an earnest expression.

"That fact is never in question, Matthew Casey," she assures him with a warm smile. "I'm glad it's you that I'm traveling with. If I had to wait to see the world then I'm glad it turned out I was waiting on you."

He leans toward her, slinging his arm across her thighs to keep her legs in his lap, and places a gentle slow kiss on her lips. The kiss deepens enough to stay barely shy of public indecency. She can't help the beaming smile she presses against his lips as they pull away from each other.

"I'm glad it turned out I was waiting on you too," he repeats, nudging her nose with his and then leaving an affectionate kiss on her cheek. He sits back in his chair but keeps one hand in hers and one arm slung across her legs. He doesn't give her time to linger on the double meaning of his words or allow her to fall back into her anxiety. He immediately transitions them into another topic. "Alright, top three places you're hoping they'll send us. Go."

"Oh no! That's too difficult," Sylvie says with a shake of her head. "You have to give me more than three."

"No, sorry, no more than three," he replies with a teasing grin. "If I give you more than three we'll be having this conversation all night. You forget that I was with you every time you added to your extensive guide book collection."


	9. The Lake & You're Trembling

_Prompt: place & dialogue - The lake & "You're trembling."_

* * *

How did she get talked into this yet again? The Polar Plunge is going to give her hypothermia one year and she's going to have no one to blame but herself. No, scratch that. She'll have plenty of people to blame and all of them work with her at Firehouse 51.

"Literally this is the worst idea anyone has ever had in the history of time," Sylvie mutters as she reminds herself to keep moving. The water isn't as cold if you're constantly moving around.

Matt's dry chuckle surprises her. She was pretty sure she'd secluded herself from the rest of 51 so that she could freely complain without reproach.

"I don't know. Fire dancing and sword swallowing seem a bit worse than this, I think," he replies as he swims to a stop in front of her.

She winces. "I'll give you sword swallowing. I don't even want to know how or why that came to be."

"At least this is a group activity so if it turns out badly you're not alone," Casey says with a smirk. "Lots of other people to share your misery."

"Is that why I was strong armed into doing this?" She asks while trying to keep her teeth from chattering. "Because misery truly does love company?"

"Either that or we all like watching each other make fools of ourselves," he suggests.

"Oh, it's that one. It's definitely that one," she replies lifting her hand above the water to point purposefully at him. She didn't think about how much colder the air would feel after being drenched in freezing lake water. The way her hand shook was beyond her control and more than a little embarrassing.

"Jesus, Brett," Matt says with a concerned furrow in his brow. He covers her hand with his and pulls it back into the water. His hand then proceeds to feel it's way up her arm with worried intent. "You shouldn't be this frozen yet. Come on, let's get you out of here."

"No! No way. If I get out before everyone else I will never hear the end of it!" She protests.

"You can't be serious?" Matt asks with that surprised confused look he so often points at her. She finds that face a little too adorable. She needs him to stop. "You're trembling. That's not a good sign. You should know that better than me."

He lets out a long suffering sigh and quirks a brow at her before speaking with a barely there smirk. "Come on, look, I'll go with you. That way we'll both never hear the end of it. You know, that whole misery loves company thing we talked about? Consider me your company."

"I don't know…"

"I'll take you to breakfast, my treat. Hot coffee. Maybe waffles? Somewhere warm and dry," he pleads as he gives her an expectant glance. "Just imagine changing into a cozy sweater and sitting in a restaurant that's heated to the perfect temperature holding a steaming cup of–"

"Okay, you win," Sylvie says as soon as that image becomes too tempting. "God, you definitely win. But I need you to swim back to shore as discreetly as you can. Maybe we can dive under the water?"

He laughs and shakes his head at her. "I'm not doing that. This water is fucking freezing. My head stays above it."

Before she can suggest anything else, he grabs her hand and pulls her toward the lakeshore. She hates to acknowledge it but…with his hand wrapped around hers she can't manage to give a damn who might call her a wimp tomorrow.

"As much as I love this mermaid outfit you've worn every year," he says, letting his eyes scan over her as they reach the sandy shore. "Maybe try more layers next year. I really don't want to have to call an ambo because one of my paramedics turned into an icicle."

She laughs and blushes, feeling her cheeks heat despite the freezing cold. "I'll think about it."

They emerge from the water, but Matt doesn't let go of her hand. She bites her bottom lip and decides to see how long it will take him to figure it out and let go. It isn't until they've reached the spot where they all dropped their coats, hats, and gloves that she realizes…

He kept a hold of her hand on purpose.

He clears his throat nervously as he lets go to search through the pile. He finds their coats and wraps hers around her shoulders first. She sticks her arms in her sleeves as he puts his coat on too. Once he's done he rubs his hands up and down her puffy coat sleeves to try and soothe the way she's been shivering since leaving the water.

"Better?" he asks with a bashful smile.

She nods. "Much." It's a slight lie. She's still freezing on the outside, but she's definitely warmer on the inside. "Alright," she admits. "Maybe the Polar Plunge isn't the worst idea in the history of time."

He releases her arms, and gives her a questioning glance as he pulls her faux fur trimmed hood over her wet hair. "No?"

She shrugs, feigning a breezy attitude she definitely doesn't feel, and gives him a coy smile. "I might be coming around on it. Especially if it gets me a free breakfast afterward."

He laughs and takes her hand again, leading her toward the changing rooms. This time he takes care to lace his fingers through hers. She feels the intimacy of the gesture zinging through her entire body. Someday she'll have to tell him exactly what kind of effect he has on her.

"Willing to freeze to death for free waffles. I'll remember that," he quips teasingly. "For next year."

Next year, she thinks, when any number of things could be different. Including the two of them.


	10. The Beach

_Prompt: place - The beach_

* * *

Matt wasn't planning on going to the beach today. He has plenty of other things to do in his free time. Plenty of jobs that deserve more attention. Normally, he goes out of his way to attend 51 events but this time he hadn't intended to. Not until they were all leaving the Firehouse post shift, that is.

"You're coming, right, Brett?" Kidd asks.

"Sure am," Brett replies brightly. "Bought a new suit for the occasion and everything."

That captures his attention and it really shouldn't. So, here lately, he's been thinking about Sylvie Brett more and more. Maybe he's been noticing the things her paramedics uniform typically hides. But he's an adult and shouldn't be tempted to change his plans just to see his crush in a swimsuit and yet…

"Which beach are you going to again?" He asks, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"North Avenue," Severide answers. "Are you actually coming? I thought you said you had to work?"

"I was supposed to. A few things got moved around and now I might have some free time," he answers. He really hopes he's a convincing liar, even if he hates doing it.

"You have to come, Casey," Sylvie encourages. "It'll be so much fun, plus if you don't the number of people who'll play volleyball will be uneven. Don't be the guy that throws our numbers off. No one wants to be that guy."

"Well, when you put it that way," he says as he throws a teasing grin in Brett's direction. "How can I say no? It would be a horrible tragedy if the numbers were uneven."

She laughs and swats at his arm. "You're a jerk."

"Let me swing by a couple of sites just to check on them and I'll meet you guys there," he promises as he mentally makes a list of all the appointments he needs to reschedule.

It takes him an hour to rearrange everything and a half hour to go back to the loft and get changed. When he finds the gang from 51, they're all settled on various blankets with coolers and snacks spread out around them. But no Sylvie.

Severide immediately hands him a beer.

"Glad you could make it," he greets.

"Me too. Sylvie still here?"

Severide chuckles and quirks a brow at him. "I knew it. Nobody moved anything did they? You found out Brett would be here and then changed your whole day, didn't you?"

"…No."

"Sure, you didn't," Kelly replies with a laugh. "She's still here. She's over there talking to some guy she knows from her gym."

Severide points and Matt's gaze follows his finger. The sight he finds sends his stomach plummeting to his feet. She's smiling and throwing her head back to laugh at something Gymmy McFit is saying while he's looking at her like she's the most enchanting creature on earth. Which, to be fair, she is.

"You gonna go over there?"

"…No."

"If you're gonna lie to my face," Kelly states with a smirk. "Can you at least do it convincingly?"

"I'm not going over there," he insists. "I'm not a jackass. She can talk to whoever she wants."

Foster suddenly appears at his side wearing a proud grin. "Damn, my partner is a hottie. Look at that guy working his ass off to impress her. Too bad he doesn't stand a chance."

"He doesn't?" Matt asks curiously. The pit that's been growing in his stomach starts to shrink ever so slightly.

"She's said no to every guy, lately," Emily informs him with a roll of her eyes. "Like she's waiting on someone specific or something."

Severide discretely elbows Matt in the ribs. It doesn't hurt but it does annoy the shit out of him.

Sylvie waves goodbye to Gymmy McFit and then makes her way back to their group. It could be wishful thinking but he swears her face brightens the minute her eyes find his.

"You're here!" She says happily as she reaches him. "I worried you'd bail on us."

He takes in her light blue bikini, scanning his eyes over her before he can stop himself. "I could never bail on 51." He says '51' but he means 'you.'

Her cheeks color a pretty shade of pink. "I'm sure you had plenty of other things to do."

"Nothing that can't wait," he assures her. "So, who was the guy?"

She shrugs and waves a hand dismissively. "Just a guy. I've run across him at the gym a couple of times. He's a little full of himself. Not really my type."

"And what is Sylvie Brett's type?" He asks with a teasing grin — even though he's genuinely curious.

She shrugs. "I don't know. I suppose someone who cares more about others than themselves. A sense of humor doesn't hurt. Somebody who works hard but knows when to kick back and enjoy the little things. Someone like that."

Her eyes meet his pointedly and this time he knows her secretive grin is not his imagination running away with him. She's describing him — or how she sees him, at least. She means him.

"That's pretty specific," he tells her as he looks away from her with his own light blush.

"What can I say? I know what I want. How about you?" She asks as she worries her bottom lip. "Do you know what you want?"

"Yeah," he replies with a soft smile. "I do. Somebody selfless, brave, who's always looking out for people who can't look out for themselves."

"That's a pretty lofty list," she says as she steps closer to him. "Not sure anyone can be all of those things all the time."

"Trust me. You are," he admits with a deep nervous breath.

Her blush deepens and she nods. "Okay, we're done being cryptic. I get it. So…are you ever going to ask me out?"

He chuckles and grins playfully at her. "Sure, is now soon enough for you or—"

She shoves him half heartedly with a loud burst of laughter. "God, you really are a jerk."

"I thought you said a sense of humor didn't hurt, Brett?"

"Matt!" She shouts in exaggerated frustration. She moves to shove him again but he catches her hand in his before she can.

He looks her in the eyes and squeezes her hand. He's feeling nervous even though he knows he doesn't have to be. "How about dinner? Tonight?"

"It's a date," she answers with a smile so bright he swears he might go blind. "In the meantime, I'm gonna beat you at beach volleyball so hard. It's gonna be absolutely humiliating for you."

"We'll see about that," he challenges with a quirked brow and a smirk. "Bring it on, Brett."


	11. Are You Drunk?

_Prompt: dialogue - "Are you drunk?"_

* * *

Sylvie waves at Herrmann as she enters Molly's. He gives her a lopsided grin and points to the other end of the bar where she finds Matt hunched over a glass, looking as if he's a minute or two from falling off his stool. She mouths a "thank you" to Herrmann as she shits down next to Casey.

"Hey, Matt."

He sits up, wobbles slightly, and then smiles lazily at her. "Sylvie. What are you doing here?"

"You know," she says with a mysterious shrug. "Just wanted a drink."

"Well," he says as he sloppily sweeps his arm around the room. "You picked the best bar in town."

"Yep," she agrees with a nod and a barely contained grin. "I did. Are you ready to head home? Herrmann needs to close up."

"No, he doesn't. He doesn't close up till 2," Matt slurs with an adorably confused expression.

"It's 2:30," she informs him with a patient smile.

He blinks at her and then sluggishly looks down at his watch. He blinks and then comically shakes his head like a dog. "I can't read it," he says as he squints at his watchface.

"That's okay. That's what I'm here for," she tells him as she rubs a hand across his back. "Well, that and to give you a ride home."

He pats his coat pockets. "Right, my keys."

"No, Herrmann has your keys. I'll bring you back here in the morning to get them, okay?"

"You're the best. Do you know that?" Matt asks as he stands from the stool and nearly falls all over her.

"I do now," she tells him with a chuckle. "You okay, there, Bambi?"

"Bambi? I'm not a baby deer, Brett," he declares, looking particularly offended. "Are you drunk?"

This time she can't help it. She laughs, loud and gasping, and shakes her head. "No, Casey. But I think you are."

"Pshh, no. Not me. I'm good," he tells her, despite very heavily leaning on the bar to stand up. "But I do think I need to lay down."

"You think?" She asks teasingly. "Let's get you home to sleep this off, tough guy."

"Sorry to call you so late, Brett," Herrmann says as he comes around the bar to help her carry Matt's weight. "Severide and Kidd are out of town. You were the only other person I could think of."

"It's fine, Herrmann. Have you ever seen him like this?" She asks.

"Not often, but he didn't seem upset about anything. Just…pensive," Herrmann tells her. "Everybody needs a good night of drinking every now and then. Right, Casey?"

Casey grunts affirmatively in response before focusing his blurred vision on Brett. "Do you know that your hair is the perfect shade of gold?"

She chuckles and blushes. "I did not know that. I'm glad to hear you think so, though."

"Oh boy," Herrmann says he holds the door open for them. "Buddy, you are going to hurt tomorrow."

"Mm, fine," he says defensively.

"Sure you are," Herrmann says with an amused snort.

They step outside and Herrmann holds Casey up as Brett unlocks and opens her passenger door. Herrmann carefully guides him into the seat and then bids them both goodnight.

Sylvie reaches around Matt to buckle his seatbelt. While she pulls it across him, he stares at her unabashedly. He keeps quiet, though, just continues to stare at her adoringly. It's unnerving but she doesn't hate it.

She walks around the car and feels his eyes on her the entire time. Matt doesn't speak again, until she's started the car and pulled away from the curb.

"Herrmann called you to come and pick me up, didn't he? You weren't there for a drink."

"He did, yes," she replies honestly.

"Did I interrupt your date?" He asks, irritably.

"My date?" She asks with a furrowed brow.

"Yeah, with the douchebag who picked you up at the Firehouse this morning," he grumbles with a roll of his eyes.

"Wow, tell me how you really feel, Casey," she says with a chuckle. "What's wrong with him?"

"He's–you know he's–" His sentence ends abruptly as if the words just won't come to him. "He's a douchebag."

"Thanks, that really explained things. You know what else he is besides a douchebag?" She asks him with a mirthful smirk.

"Let me guess, your soulmate?" He deadpans.

She laughs loudly again. Drunk Matt is simultaneously amusing and frustrating as hell. "No. Definitely not."

"Then I give up, who the hell is he?"

"My brother."

"Your–you have a brother?" He asks incredulously. "Since when?"

"Well, I've known him his whole life so somewhere around 27 years I guess," she states trying not smirk at the utterly confused expression on his face.

"So, I ran off and drank my ass off…over your brother?" He asks with a scowl. "Wow, I'm really gonna hate myself in the morning."

Now it's her turn to be confused. "Wait, you're drunk over me? Because you thought I was on a date?"

He visibly pales, leans his head back on the head rest, and closes his eyes. "Shit, I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have said anything at all. But you're sitting there, looking freaking gorgeous and you showed up to pick me up when you should be sleeping because you're the best person I know and I–I thought I'd missed my chance."

There's a lot to unpack there. Almost too much. Tonight is not the time for that. He's still drunk and she's not even sure what he'll remember after a good night of sleep, but the giddy hope bubbling up in her chest isn't going anywhere. Matt was so upset he might have lost her that he went out drinking? He wants her that much?

"We're putting a pin in that for when you aren't nearly black out drunk," she tells him. "But for now I'll just say…you have nothing to worry about, Matt. You haven't missed your chance. I don't think you ever could."

He snores obnoxiously in response and a scoffing chuckle escapes her.

"Yeah, I should have seen that coming," she mutters with a shake of her head. "Figures. You're lucky I'm so crazy about you, Matt Casey."


	12. I Never Stood a Chance, Did I?

**A/N: **So I went wayyyyy far into established Brettsey land for this one. All thanks to katertots btw who helped me with nearly all the details in this prompt response. (the names, the scenario, all of it). She's a blessing to my life (and also the person who introduced me to Brettsey in the first place.) Anyway, hope you like it!

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

_Prompt: dialogue - "I never stood a chance, did I?"_

* * *

Casey focuses on repairing the railing on the back porch stairs. A few years ago, he probably would have let this particular repair sit while he took care of the paying jobs for people other than himself, but these days repairs to his own home are fairly pressing - For a few reasons.

One of which is bounding out the back door and running toward the stairs without a single glance up.

"Careful!" he scolds, reaching out a hand that lands on a tiny chubby stomach. "Not a good place to be running right now, munchkin."

He sets aside the hammer, setting it down as far out of the way as possible, and scoops up the four year old with perfect shimmering ringlets currently doing her best to give Casey a mild heart palpitation.

"I told you the back stairs were off limits, didn't I?"

Her tiny teeth sink into her bottom lip and she shrugs with unconvincing innocence. "Maybe."

'Maybe' is her answer for everything these days. He'd like to have a talk with the child who taught her that word. A four year old doesn't need to know loophole words like that. Especially not _his_ four year old. His is a devious little risk taker who looks deceptively like a small innocent angel.

"Morgan!" comes a tired yell through the open back door. A second later, Sylvie's worried face comes into view. Though, that worry becomes an affectionate eye roll when she spots their daughter in his arms. "You just can't stay away from him can you?" she asks their daughter with a chuckle.

Morgan ignores Sylvie's observation and turns in his arms to focus on Matt. She fiddles with buttons on his henley as she speaks. "Daddy, I made you something. Wanna see?"

"If I come see, will you stay inside while I finish up out here?" He asks her with a skeptical stare.

She nods, curls bouncing and blue eyes shining excitedly. "Promise! Let's go, daddy! Go!" She orders as she points through the open back door and into the house.

"Okay, where are we going?" He asks as he passes Sylvie with a shared amused glance.

"Drew's room! I wanted him to see too!"

He puts her down once they cross the threshold and she takes off down the hall to the nursery. Sylvie tugs his hand to get him to hang back.

"Brace yourself," she warns him. "She's about to pull out her pout and her big eyes and we both know how you get around those. Let me just remind you, she has you wrapped around her tiny chubby little finger. Do not give in."

He chuckles and shakes his head dismissively. "I'm not that bad," he argues.

Sylvie's eyes widen and she looks as though she wants to say something else, but ultimately she simply smiles at him and waves him on ahead of her. "Whatever you say, Matt." She laughs mutely at him and repeats herself. "Whatever you say."

They step into the room and instinctively Matt drifts toward the crib. He glances down at the tiny wriggling baby, hands scrunched around his still wrinkly face. He smiles and gently rubs his son's belly.

"How you doing, buddy?" He asks, hoping for a glimpse of a smile. Drew hasn't quite gotten there yet. Though Sylvie swears she saw a genuine smile once, Matt's pretty sure it was gas.

"Mommy, daddy," Morgan announces as she stands between two pictures she's taped to the wall opposite Drew's crib. "Drew and me would like a puppy."

Sylvie presses her lips together with barely restrained amusement. "You..._and Drew_ would like a puppy? Are you sure about that?"

"Yes," she says as she neatly folds her hands across her back, like a professor preparing for a lecture.

Matt suddenly sees a flash of her going off to college and feels a pang of something in his chest. He's not sure what it is, but he knows it's telling him to enjoy the moment. She won't be this little forever.

"And how do you know this?" He asks, genuinely curious.

"I drawed him a picture of a puppy and he liked it. So he wants a puppy too," Morgan declares as if it should be the most obvious answer in the world.

"Ah," Sylvie says with a soft chuckle and a nod. "Makes sense. Please, continue."

Matt scubs a hand over his face to get control of his own impending laughter and shares a delighted grin with his wife.

"This," she says as she dramatically stabs a finger at a picture of a frowning stick figure family drawn in blue crayon. "Is us with no puppy. See how sad we are? I drawed Drew crying. I know he's always crying but, trust me, this crying is sad crying."

"Wow," Matt replies, feigning concern. "That looks pretty bad, yeah. And the other picture?" He asks as he points to the drawing in red crayon.

"This!" she tells him, beaming at him with a smile that looks exactly like Sylvie's. "Is us _with _a puppy! Look! I drawed the puppy! I drew a dalmatian so he can ride in the firetruck with daddy! And now we're all happy! Even baby Drew. I drawed him crying again but that's just cause he's hungry. So, see? We have to get a puppy so we'll be happy!" She stops, points wide watery eyes at him and folds her hands under chin. "Right, daddy? Please?"

She draws out the please and sticks out her bottom lip and dammit if it doesn't almost rip the word yes right out of his throat.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Sylvie staring at him with a smug smirk. He knows she's just waiting for him to cave. Thankfully, his beautiful compassionate wife takes pity on him.

"We'll think about it, sweetheart, okay?"

Morgan sighs with her whole body and slumps her shoulders as she nods glumly. "Okay."

"Honey, why don't you go turn on Paw Patrol for a little while, okay? Daddy needs to get back to work and I need to feed your brother."

Her mood suddenly brightens, complete with a springy hop. "I get extra TV time?"

Sylvie smiles and nods but follows it with a stern reminder. "But just two episodes. So choose wisely, munchkin. Copy?"

"Copy, Chief!" Morgan yells with an excited salute. Calling Sylvie Chief started as an inside joke between him and Sylvie. He told her once that if their home was a Firehouse then she'd the Battalion Chief and it stuck. Over the years, it seems Morgan's followed his example. "Can I go turn it on now?"

"Have at it," Matt says as he sweeps an arm across the open nursery doorway. "Backyards off limits till I say so," he reminds her as she skips off toward the living room. Once she's gone, Matt takes a step closer to their daughter's crayon artwork and studies them carefully.

"Matt," Sylvie starts. The warning in her tone is obvious so he knows what's coming next. "You are not seriously considering getting our four year old and our newborn a puppy, are you?"

He turns to face her with an overly wide smile. "No, of course not." He leaves one beat of silence before he can't hold it in any longer and has to change his story completely. "But...Ritter's been volunteering at a dalmatian rescue-"

Sylvie breaks out into hysterical laughter, effectively cutting him off. "God, you are such a sap for her!"

"Yeah, well, she has your eyes and your smile so I can't really help it. Those eyes and that smile should always be happy," he admits as he reaches for her waist and pulls her into his chest. He chuckles to himself as he contemplates his own words. "Damn. I never stood a chance, did I?"

She shakes her head at him but never once stops smiling. "No, no you didn't."

This would be the moment where she could put an end to this dog idea. All she has to do is say the world and he'll drop it. But she doesn't. Secretly, he thinks she wants to spoil their kid too - despite giving him hell for it.

"God, I love you. Even if you spoil our daughter every chance you get," She scolds half heartedly as she dips her face closer and closer to his. She steals a lingering kiss, and then pulls back to look him in the eyes. "But if you get her dog you'll have to fix the fence in the backyard. Some of the boards are loose."

He thinks about it for a moment and then shrugs one shoulder. "I can do that. Easy. I even have some extra lumber left over from a job. It's in the back of my truck."

Sylvie snickers through a resigned sigh and then completely caves. "Fine, you fix the fence and I'll call Ritter after I feed the baby."

"Now look who didn't stand a chance?" He asks her teasingly.

"You're lucky I love you and that our daughter is impossibly cute."

He drops a grateful kiss to her temple and then meets his wife's bemused gaze with an earnest expression. "Trust me. I know. I'm the luckiest bastard in all of Chicago."

And that's the God's honest truth.


	13. Just Trust Me

**A/N: **I have no idea where this came from. I just started typing.

* * *

_Prompt: dialogue - "__Just trust me."_

* * *

"I do not like this, Brett."

"Just trust me. Please?"

Casey sighs heavily and breaks eye contact with Sylvie before nodding, indicating his resignation. It's not as though he has much of a choice. A night out somehow turned into a sting operation. Sylvie spotted some douchebag dropping something in a woman's drink at the bar. The woman hasn't had a sip yet but the douchebag in question is watching her like a hawk. Matt put in a call Ruzek and Brett had gotten a hold of Upton, but there still weren't going to be here for several minutes.

Minutes, Sylvie insisted, they didn't have.

Matt watches, his teeth gritting and grinding through his worry, as Sylvie slides past the douchebag. She brushes against him, distracting him from his initial Target, and that's when Matt moves in. He squeezes through the crowd and stands beside the woman. As she goes to take a sip of her tainted drink he knocks her elbow, causing the gin and tonic to spill out over the metal bar.

"Jesus, I'm so sorry," he says, pretending the bump wasn't intentional. "You alright?"

She scowls at him but nods. "Fine."

"Let me get you another one of those—"

"No," she says, her face softening. "That's probably a sign I've had enough anyway."

As she leaves, Matt turns his attention back to Sylvie. She's leaning on the bar, next to the creep, with her half consumed vodka tonic resting unattended at her elbow. Purposefully taunting him. When the jackass drops something in her drink, Casey films a quick video. It's proof to pass along to their friends in Intelligence. Hopefully, it's enough.

He feels a tap on his shoulder and turns to find Ruzek looking at him expectantly. Matt nods toward Sylvie and the creep sitting next to her. He gets the message and Casey watches from afar. Ruzek barely says two words before the guy tries to make a run for it.

Upton and Halstead come racing through the crowd, ready for a chase, but Sylvie merely sticks out her long leg and stiletto clad foot. The criminal trips, slams his head against the bar, and falls limply to the floor.

Casey laughs as Brett smirks at Ruzek, hands him the drink that was drugged, and very primly says, "You're welcome."

Jay and Hailey get the guy handcuffed and conscious enough to be dragged from the crowded hipster bar while they stick around and give Ruzek their statements and the video Matt took. Once that's done, they decide that's enough nightlife for one evening.

Casey wraps his hand around hers as they cross the street to his truck and chuckles.

"You're a handful, Sylvie Brett."

"Please, you love it. I keep you on your toes."

He pulls on her arm gently, reeling her into his side, and then kisses the top of her head. His lips stay in her hair causing his chuckle to sound muffled. He arches back to look at her as they reach his truck. "True. Next date night, though, can I spend a little less time on my toes? I worry enough at work. I don't want to worry as much when I'm off duty."

"That's fair," she says wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing herself against him. "How about tomorrow, you come over and we'll sit on the couch and watch the Blackhawks game." She gives a sultry glance and a charming smile before adding, "and chill."

"Chill?" He asks with an intrigued lift of his brow.

She nods once to confirm as her eyes slide up and down the length of him with a heated gaze. "I have the apartment all to myself tomorrow. We probably shouldn't waste it."

"Have I mentioned that I love you?" He asks playfully.

"I think so yes," she replies with a bright laugh. "But feel free to remind me anytime you want."

"Don't worry," he promises sincerely. "I will."


	14. People Are Staring

**A/N:** Once again, we're taking a trip to Established Brettsey land. Hope you like it!

Happy reading!

angellwings

* * *

_Prompt: dialogue - _"_People are staring."_

* * *

Since the end of their shift Casey has been acting odd. It's not bad or good. Just...odd.

She didn't notice anything at first. They left the firehouse and headed home. It was a rough shift with very little sleep so Casey moved his appointments and any other work to the next day, and then they went to bed. She'd barely gotten under the covers and curled into Matt before she passed out completely.

She wakes up seven hours later, well rested but starving, to find Matt staring at her. Granted, it's an adoring stare, but not exactly a normal occurrence. The intensity of it upon just waking up _may_ have made her jump. (Not far, but enough that he noticed.)

Casey chuckles, presses a kiss to her forehead, and mumbles an apology.

"How'd you sleep?" She asks, blinking bleary eyes at him.

"Like the dead," he answers. "You?"

"Blissfully. Man, we were wiped."

"We didn't even stop to eat before we crashed," Matt points out. "It's after two in the afternoon. No wonder I'm famished."

Sylvie groans, nods, kisses his jaw quickly, and then begrudgingly sits up in bed. "Do you want to cook or order in?"

Casey sits up after her and rests his chin on her shoulder as he tries to decide. "I know we slept through it, but I think I still want breakfast."

She hums in approval. "A really delicious homemade egg, bacon, and cheese sandwich sounds amazing right now." She pairs a pointed glance at Casey with a pleading smile. He usually only makes them when one of them is hungover, which doesn't happen often, but they are always delicious.

He shakes his head while laughing softly at her. "Subtle," he teases. "But you're right. That would hit the spot."

"Yes!" She exclaims triumphantly as she wraps her arms around his neck. "You know I love you, right?"

"At the very least I know you love my egg sandwiches," he quips dryly.

Her reply is sugary sweet. "I have enough room in my heart for both you and your egg sandwiches."

He snorts. "Mhm. Love you, too. You hop in the shower. I'll make breakfast."

"You're entirely too good to me," she says.

He responds, "I know." Which pulls a playful shocked gasp from her throat as Casey gets out of bed.

"Rude!" She shouts through a loud guffaw.

She does as Matt requested and takes a shower. She dresses in her softest sweater and most broken-in pair of jeans. Immediately, she feels more human than she did this morning. When she enters the kitchen, Casey has two sandwiches ready and waiting.

His phone pings as she approaches. He checks it and then swiftly turns it face down. "Change of plans," he announces. He looks anxious and awkwardly avoids looking down at his phone. "I need to get dressed and go check on a job. Just got a text about a leak."

She knows it's a lie. What she doesn't know is _why_. "Okay. Do you have time to eat first? I feel bad I conned you into making these sandwiches and now you have to go."

He quirks a brow at her with a mirthful stare. "Conned?"

"Conned, persuaded - what's the difference?"

He laughs and comes around the counter, placing his hands on her hips. The space between them narrows quickly and, before she knows it, she's swept away by wandering hands and an intrusive kiss. He presses his forehead to hers as he pulls away.

"Yeah, I have time to eat," he tells her. "Not gonna pass up a meal with a con artist. Especially not one who looks like you."

"Flatterer," she accuses.

They eat side by side at their tiny kitchen table with her legs across Matt's lap and one of his arms slung across the back of her chair. He looks as easy and relaxed as ever. Whatever it is he's lying about, he doesn't feel guilty about it. She trusts him with her entire being, that includes her life and her heart. If he doesn't feel guilty, then it's nothing for her to worry about. He gets dressed and then hurries out the door - promising to be back in time for dinner as the door closes behind him.

Sylvie distracts herself with housework. She's put off laundry for long enough and the kitchen could use a good deep clean. There's definitely something going on with Matt. The way she woke up to him staring at her and his cagey lie about whatever text he received. They're small things but they're not normal.

On the flip side, the affection and love between them hasn't changed or faded. She has no doubts about how he feels about her. Whatever he's into, it won't end in a break up. Not that she ever truly thought it would. Any worries either of them had have been talked to death. She's past that stage of ever shifting insecurities when it comes to Matt Casey.

So, the mystery of his behavior continues on.

He shows back up around five o'clock with take out and asks if she'd still like to go to Molly's later. She tells him that of course she'd like to go to Molly's later.

"How is that even a question?" She asks him teasingly.

He grins at her with amusement and holds his hands up in a placating gesture. "Just checking. Every now and then you prefer to go somewhere else. I've learned better than to assume."

"You're a very smart man, Matt Casey. I've always liked that about you."

He laughs and pulls her chair closer to his. "I don't have any other choice if I plan to keep up with you."

After dinner, they head to Molly's. Matt keeps her hand tight in his, fingers laced together, and leads her to a table in the back corner. Her brow furrows. This is not their usual table. She looks behind them to make sure no one's taken it and, sure enough, it's empty and waiting for them. It's on the tip of her tongue to ask about the change but she bites it back.

She takes off her coat and drapes her purse over the back of her chair while Matt goes to get their drinks. Foster and Kidd wave at her from the bar, but they don't come over. Which is just as odd as Matt's shifty behavior. She's had just about enough of being left in the dark.

When Matt comes back, he places the beers on the table and sits down next to her. It may not be their usual table but she has to admit the corner is pretty damn cozy. The lighting is dimmer, accentuating the glow of the twinkle lights, and it's a four chair table so she and Matt have taken up one whole side. His chair is angled toward hers so that his body walls her off from the rest of the patrons. It feels intimate even if they're in plain site of the general public.

"Okay," she says with a suspicious narrowed gaze. "What is going on here, Matt? You disappeared for a few hours and don't think for a second that I thought it was for a job. We're sitting at a different table. Emily and Stella won't come near me-What exactly am I missing?"

He sighs but keeps a soft smile on his face. His expression is nothing short of bemused. "You couldn't have given me just a few more minutes?" He asks. "Because I had a plan and speech but in neither of those did you get impatient and call me out."

She blinks at him in confusion. What is he talking about? "A plan and a speech for…?"

His hand reaches in his pocket and when it appears again he sets a small velvet black box on the table.

She sucks in a startled breath and feels an excited flush in her cheeks. "Matt."

He swallows thickly and fumbles to open the box. She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip to keep from chuckling at him. He's adorable, especially when he's nervous. The last time he was this nervous, he asked her if she wanted to move in together. She thought he was adorable then too. When the springs on the box finally give, an exquisitely modest diamond ring with a platinum band is revealed.

She loves it almost as much as she loves him.

"We've talked about it before in hypotheticals," he begins. He pauses to clear his throat. "I know you don't want a whole big production so I thought what better place to do this than...our favorite place. A quiet table, surrounded by our friends without _involving _our friends. I don't know, it felt...like us."

It is them. It really is. Her eyes start to water and she knows her smile reflects her joyful tears.

"We were friends before we were anything else," Casey tells her. He points between them with a fond smile. "This, us. It happened slowly. I was in love with you a long time before I realized what it was. Until then, I don't know, I'd kind of given up. I thought the job was all I was ever going to have. What do they say? Stop looking and it'll find you? Well, no one tells you what to do when the person who finds you has actually been there all along."

They look they share is nostalgic as they both remember all the awkwardness and tension that led them to that first move and first date. The stops and starts, the arguments and half broken hearts. It's like she admitted to herself earlier, their issues have been talked over and talked over until they know each other's fears inside and out.

"We managed," Sylvie assures him as she places her hands over his. "Really well, I think. Considering I thought this was all impossible once upon a time."

He raises the back of her fingers to his lips and nods. "You're not the only one who thought this might be impossible. I'm glad we both ended up being wrong." His chest rises and falls with a deep calming breath. "I love you. I'm always going to love you. Sylvie Brett, will you marry me?"

Her vision clouds over and her throat clogs with overwhelming elation. A few happy tears that were gathered in her lashes finally fall. For lack of words, she nods repetitively and places her hands on either side of his face to pull him in for a kiss. She kisses him once. Twice. And then a third time with an open mouth a slip of tongue. Just appropriate enough for public consumption.

"I love you too," she rasps. "And yes, Matt Casey, I will absolutely marry you."

"That's what I was hoping you'd say," he tells her while he slips the ring on her finger.

Her laughter is tearful as she takes a moment to admire the way his ring looks on her hand. "You did such a good job. This ring is perfect."

She closes a fist around the collar of his sweater and uses it to bring his lips crashing down on hers again. Just like in their apartment that afternoon, he sweeps her away with deep kisses and even deeper emotions. She's caught up in him and only him until the prickle of prying eyes raises the hairs on the back of her neck. She pulls away from the kiss, taking one last nibble at his bottom lip. Casey grunts in protest and Sylvie lets out a rare giddy giggle.

"People are staring," she whispers when he opens his eyes again.

"Let 'em," he replies with a wicked smirk. "I don't care."

"We could do that, but consider this…we could leave and celebrate in private. Preferably naked. Or we could make out in the back of a bar like a couple of college kids on spring break. That's good too," she says with a coy smile. "I've already made one big decision tonight. This one's all you."

"Make out in a bar while our friends stare at us or have you all to myself and naked? That's not even a choice. I vote naked, obviously."

Sylvie stands with a wink and puts on her coat. "Like I said, you're a very smart man, Matt Casey."

The ring glimmers in the light and catches her eye as she moves. What a beautiful extraordinary unbelievable day, and, thank her lucky stars, it's the first of many.


End file.
